Scars

Scars. Not one, but seven. Seven times the blade slashed across skin, each time with increasing fervour, like a forest fire - spreading, enveloping, consuming... Once wasn't enough. The locked up pain broke free not in the form of tears, but as little red rubies flowing silently along white marble. Seven ugly scars left behind. Seven markings that refused to go away, staying on for years to come as a reminder.

Excuses. Fake reasons to come up with every now and then. Long sleeved clothes to hide the marks. Hoping that one day someone will see through the pathetic lies. Hoping that someone won't avoid the truth because it's too hard to accept. Hoping that someone might see that it's hard for them, but it's harder for me.

It's hard to come out. It's worse when people simply refuse to accept it, or just overlook and ignore it completely. It's hard to face it, I know. But buried under each scar there's a reason, a hidden pain, and I just wish you could understand that. Because fake smiles and obligatory hugs, pathetic friends and silly words can't be comfort forever.